After Oz
by Joe Normal
Summary: Sometimes not getting what you wished you for is for the best.
1. Hour 10

A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop. I only own the angst and this piece of the hypothetical road these characters are unwittingly following. So there.

Hour 10 of what looks like a 12 hour day begins with me sighing in my car as I drive to…what's her name again?

'Andrea R.'

I have no idea who that is, since the last name is confidential, and I probably only know the last letter since there is apparently also an 'Andrea S.' in the Hillridge High freshman class that signed up for tutoring. Larry got 'Andrea S.' oddly enough, who needed algebra help. My Andrea needs biology help, and I'm not entirely psyched about that, since bio is tougher to teach without ready made worksheets and word problems.

But I signed up for this, despite my better judgment, since soccer and the film workshop were all about me. I was beginning to feel too self-centered, like I wasn't giving back, and so I signed up to be a tutor. When I explained this to my parents, they gave me a very straightforward 'You're crazy!' but said tutoring was fine (and noble, if not crazy), as long as it wasn't going to be too much with everything else I had. Then I would have to drop one of the extra-curricular activities.

So here I am at 'Andrea R's' place. The house is nice, looks a bit like Lizzie's house actually, and is probably the same model for all I know. After tossing my soccer equipment bag in the backseat and pulling my backpack off the passenger side floor. I grab my cell phone from the cup holder and yank my keys out of the ignition, and walk up to the front door.

I ring the door bell and start to straighten myself out. My outfit of a Hillridge Soccer T-shirt, track pants, and flip-flops won't exactly impress any parents, but all that matters if she pulls it together by the time the test happens.

I ring the doorbell, and here a muffled 'Just a minute' from inside the house. As soon as the door swings open I look up and my heart practically stops from the shock.

'Andrea R.'…is in fact Andie from our junior high days.

"Andie?" I ask, trying to compose myself. After all, I'm the sophomore, she's the freshman.

"Gordo? Are you my tutor?" she says with a blush and a smile.

"I…I am…how weird is that?" I ask, Andie has grown up quite a bit since she all but disappeared from view halfway through our eighth grade year. A couple inches taller, hair is back to its natural brunette way, the voice is a little deeper, and um…how do I put this without sounding like such a guy?

I give up.

Andie has breasts.

I barely have a moment to look down and make sure Andie can't notice me noticing her…you know…breasts…when she practically runs at me and throws her arms around me.

She smells nice too…I…I'm just saying.

"I can't believe it's you!! I was fighting myself about signing up for tutoring, but if I had known it was you…anyway…come in…come in," she pulls away smiling and leads me inside. My eyes linger down to her jean shorts. I think I'll have to upgrade Andie's status to 'phenomenal looking'.

She leads me to the kitchen where there is a circular breakfast table. Andie already has her textbook and notebook open as well as a cordless phone and a cell phone next to her bag. This girl clearly means business.

"How long do I have you for?" she asks as we sit at the table. I have to resist the urge to say something even mildly flirtatious, but the way she looks makes it really tough.

"I already told my parents to get started on dinner without me. So really? However long you need more for," I answer.

Ugh, that still sounded slimy.

"I can make us dinner afterwards, I mean if you want. I'm a fair cook," she suggests, and I'm all about food that I don't have to cook.

"Sure, but what about your folks? Aren't they going to be back before then?" I ask, unsure how it's any of my business.

"My mom is out of town on business, and my dad works for the local FBI field office and has already told me he'll be working late. Wish I could say this didn't happen very often, but hey, there are worse parents out there," she explains, and I get a brief glimpse of my parents nodding their heads and writing this all down. Andie's role model issues back in junior high would make a lot of sense if her parents are always gone.

But I'm not here to provide really amateur psychiatric help. I'm here to provide really amateur biology tutoring.

"Anyway, I don't want to waste any of your time, how about we get started?" she suggests.

"Sure thing," I say hoping that a brisk round of studying will get my mind out of the gutter to which it is rapidly descending.

The hour and a half or so spent on the studying came and went with little drama, interrupted only by two calls for me that went to voicemail (Tudgeman "Where are you? I finished tutoring an hour ago." and Miranda "Tutoring? God your golden boy routine is so old. Don't you owe me dinner?") and passing glances at Andie's um…shirt. Her unreasonably tight shirt, mocking me with it's…tightness.

Deep breaths…David…deep breaths.

Anyway, the material wasn't awful, but was hardly exciting for either of us. Mostly on genetics, and I'm already bored thinking about it. Biology is important, and a thrill for some, but not me, and apparently not Andy either. But she seemed to pick everything up reasonably well.

"Spaghetti and meatballs okay with you?" she asks and starts over to the kitchen.

"Sounds great. How can I help?" I ask because I just don't want to sit like a lump while she cooks for me. It would be too weird.

She opens the fridge and pulls out a package of hamburger meat, and tosses it to me. Thankfully my catching skills are still sharp even after all this time on the soccer field.

"You're on meatball making duty," she orders with a smile as she begins to pull tomato paste and other cans from a nearby pantry.

She makes the sauce from scratch? Wow…

"Fine, but no jokes about how well I can handle meat…or balls," I reply.

She looks back at me and laughs.

"No promises," she replies as she starts opening cans and dumping things into a nearby mixing bowl.

To be continued…


	2. On Top of Spaghetti

A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop

A/N: A million thanks for the reviews.

I forgot what an adventure making spaghetti and meatballs is, especially when Chef Boyardee isn't making it. So many dishes to be washed. But it tastes great, apparently a 'Robinson family secret' as Andie puts it. And considering all my hard work on the meatball front, I had no way of following what she was doing.

"So," she begins as we are eating across from each other at the table we were studying at a short while ago, "I'm sure you get this question all the time, but what is the deal with you and Lizzie?"

"I don't get that question as much as you would think these days," I smile, "she and I are friends…as much as we can be since she's a working girl in Hollywood…but always just friends…not without a fair amount of sexual tension that a boy and a girl would have for knowing each other as long as we have."

She gives me a look of disbelief.

"So do you still keep in touch? I mean…when was the last time you even saw each other?"

"Winter break…Miranda and I hung out with her all through Christmas afternoon and night…and had a blast I'll have you know…hardly seemed like she's been mostly gone for a year and a half," I say…not wanting to reveal that Miranda had a total meltdown in front of Lizzie when we finally parted ways.

I had one too…I just waited to get home to have it.

The truth is…we don't really know when Lizzie will be back in town. The great unspoken is that Miranda and I worry that she'll never come back.

"Okay, what about you and Miranda?" she asks.

"Same deal, although I bet more one-sided, Miranda likes…a certain kind of guy…although I have no idea how to describe said guy," I answer, and my ego begins to wonder if Andie's probing me about having a girlfriend for reasons other than 'just catching up'.

I could never tell her that in more recent days, Miranda has been the object of my fantasies about the same level as Lizzie, sometimes they are both there…and I'll just stop right there before my mind completely wanders.

"You are the only guy I know that has two pretty hot girls for best friends," she says looking down into her bowl and twirling pasta with her fork.

"Yeah, I do get that a lot, but since I joined the soccer team we haven't been that inseparable. Miranda has choir and the dance team, so we've been getting a little space," I explain. With Lizzie gone, it sort of sucks having so much to do in the way of seeing Miranda more than just an hour everyday…

"Yeah that's something else I wanted to ask. How did you wind up on the soccer team?"

"Coach Aro is the freshman Phys Ed teacher, he caught me kicking the ball with my left foot during Friday free time, said he needed a left footer to play on the left wing, since they don't have to pivot as much to kick the ball the width of the field," I explain, hoping that I'm not making myself sound like the next soccer super phenom.

She's just nodding silently, and not breaking eye contact.

"Um…yeah…have I totally bored you yet?" I say realizing the Gordo show must come to an end, at least for tonight.

"To be honest? It could have used more explosions…maybe a car chase…and a sex scene is always appreciated," she says with a smile. She puts a nice slow emphasis on the words 'sex scene', and I immediately wonder if she is imagining me having sex…not necessarily with her.

But now…I'm imagining having sex with her…and I'm crossing all sorts of self-imposed rules of being a responsible tutor.

Wake up, Gordon!

"I'll fix it in editing," I reply, getting a smile for a line that I use all the time in front of Lizzie and Miranda…which they normally give an eye roll to. In the process of rolling my eyes…I catch a glimpse of the clock on the microwave. "Great…8PM…where did the time go?" I ask, casually checking my phone for any missed calls…at least from my parents.

Thankfully nothing.

"Oh man…I was having fun making you uncomfortable while you went over your twisted love life"

"Non-existent love life," I correct with a proud smile, "were you even listening to anything I said?"

"I tuned out after the biology lesson…sorry…I think I caught something about soccer and left foot dominant…then I saw something shiny…" she trails off sarcastically.

Without telling her this and putting my foot in my mouth, I like Wiseass Andie way more than Crazy Stalker Andie. There is a confidence there that is just really, really…sexy.

There I go again.

"Funny…well Captain Sarcasm…can I help you with the dishes?" I ask with a salute.

"No no, I've kept you long enough…and these will only take me 15 minutes," she explains taking my empty bowl and fork from me. "Get out of here before you get in trouble with Dr. and Dr. Gordon."

"Kay…good luck…let me know how it goes…oh wait..." I walk over to her notebook and write my cell number on the border of one of her open notebook pages since her hands are elbow deep in washing dishes. "There…my cell…let me know if I completely failed you…I can help you find a better tutor and maybe talk to Mrs. Kilmer to give you a retest," I offer, not like I've actually got that much pull…but Ms. K likes me enough to at least hear me out.

"Alright…thanks again," she says sincerely but barely looking at me as she continues to wash.

"Okay…good night," I say walking myself to the door. I hate leaving places…I never know if my goodbye is…I dunno…'nice' enough. Like they are somehow awkward or I'm leaving with the attitude of 'sure glad to be the hell out of here'.

If my parents only knew how neurotic I really am.

I make my way outside and feel my pockets to make sure I have everything. Wallet, cell phone, my MP3 player that I have no idea why I didn't just leave in my bag…

Oh God Dammit!

My keys.

The keys I need to enter my house and drive my car are sitting on her kitchen counter.

I walk back up to the door, and for reasons I can't explain…I knock on the door instead of just using the doorbell. Maybe my irritation with myself caused this…

As I put up my fist and get ready to give the door a good knocking on…it swings open and the unexpected lack of object stopping me causes me to awkwardly lunge forward towards Andie…who barely managed a "Gordo wait!" before noticing that I was lunging towards her.

The whole thing barely took more than a second to happen, but in attempting to correct my near fall I placed my right hand on her shoulder and the left on her waist in some kind of half-baked plan to keep either of us from…but mostly me…from wiping out.

She has dropped the keys on the floor, and is looking at me with a mix of embarrassment and surprise. I'm sure I look exactly the same way, and we're probably lucky we're keeping it together at least this much, considering there is barely four inches between us.

"I'm…I'm sorry I forgot…my um…my keys…and I was about to knock as you…" I stutter…looking anywhere now but her eyes and realizing I still have my hands on her.

I hastily pull them away.

"Wow…um…" more stuttering…just say goodbye again and leave her be moron.

"Thanks again, David," she says, putting a hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek. "Good night," she says barely above a whisper. I can't read the look on her face if I tried, but I'm still too embarrassed to decipher body language.

"Don't mention it," I manage to say…collecting myself just long enough to add, "See you later…"

I walk to my car to make my way home. Any thoughts of calling Miranda to recap tonight's events are gone now…I'm a bit too rattled.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe.

To be continued…


	3. Lousy Fate

A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop

A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop. I only own the angst and the plot of the this episode. Thanks again to those who reviewed.

"So…are you going to tell Miranda?" was the obvious question Tudgeman asked after I finished retelling last night's events while we were waiting for everyone else to join us at lunch.

"Tell her that I tutored Lizzie's stalker…who then turned into a Kate clone until we all graduated from Hillridge Junior High? I would have to tell her _and_ Kate that…do you really want this to be the only topic of conversation at lunch today?" I ask watching him pull out a Capri Sun pouch and attempt to poke the straw through it.

"Well…no I guess not…but still you should consider at least telling Miranda about it. I mean…if you end up tutoring Andie for the rest of the semester you should probably mention it. Don't you think she would be pissed if she finds out later?" he asks as I try to pay attention while watching him poke at the pouch without any success.

Poke, poke, poke…

"I don't really see why it's important, I'm only tutoring her. I'm not asking her to be part of our BFF group or anything. Nor will I be hanging out with her all the time outside of tutoring…"

Poke, poke, poke…

"So you say…but you had dinner with her last night…or more importantly…she _made_ you dinner last night…it's _practically_ a date..."

Poke, poke, poke…

I can't take anymore and finally rip the pouch away from him and jab the straw successfully into the pouch in one try, then jam it back into his hand.

"I can't believe you still drink those…are you 10 years old?" I snapped, trying to change the subject.

"So you admit that it was sort of a date?"

"It was _practically_ just her making a meal she was going to make anyway…and me mooching some of that meal…besides I helped her make it," I say thinking I've won the argument.

"Right…you handled the meatballs…" he says with a triumphant smile.

"Why do I bother talking to you?" I reply, bitterly opening up my chemistry book.

"I've been asking that for forever," Miranda says coming up from behind me and nearly giving me a heart attack. Thank god our conversation about Andie was all but done. "So…what are we ignoring Larry about?"

A pause.

Oh God…please give me something believable to argue about with Larry. We argue all the time about spaz stuff like movies…

"Kate's birthday party, Gordo can't think of what to get her, my gag gift suggestions aren't working for him…" he says convincingly.

"Aw…don't worry buddy…I've got us covered…you just need to chip over some money," she says putting a casual hand on my shoulder. This doesn't go unnoticed by Tudge who quirks his eyebrow like he just smelled something funny.

Not this again.

"Thanks, Rand…knew I could count on you," I say looking over to her with a smile.

There is a pause as she smiles back…notices her hand on my shoulder…then quickly removes it and goes about pulling out her lunch.

"So...how was tutoring?" she asks…tearing open a bag of chips and and popping one in her mouth.

"Meh…uneventful," I reply sipping from my soda can. I can see Larry's eyebrow quirking up even more from the corner of my eye, but he is at least doing it while Miranda is looking at me.

Yes, uneventful is a total lie if you factor out the constant drooling over Andie and the inadvertent near groping that occurred in the final five minutes. I get it Larry; put your eyebrow down already.

"Still say you're going to burn out if you keep this up. Do you even see your parents anymore?" she asks with a smile and I revel that my Oscar winning performance at answering the last question has avoided any follow up questions about who I tutored.

"On weekends…and um…we have dinner sometimes during the week," she rolls her eyes before I even finish this last sentence. "What…it's not just me…now that I can drive they go off on their own all the time," I follow up trying to defend myself.

"So the dinner you owe me? Should I schedule that for sometime after graduation?" she asks…still smiling.

I really like it when she smiles.

Even when she's busting my balls.

"I dunno Rand…after graduation sounds like its going to be pretty busy...can I pencil you in for your 30th birthday?" I inquire, pulling out an imaginary pad and pencil.

Her response is a punch to my arm.

"Or…maybe…this Saturday…before Kate's party?" I say in pain, grabbing my arm. How the hell did she learn to punch?

Oh right.

Lizzie McGuire's Class: "How to assault smart ass boys"

It's a wonder Matt still has his original arms.

"Saturday sounds perfect!" she says all sweet and cheerful, even adding a peck on my cheek for effect. "Oh, there's Parker…I have to get my geometry book back from her since she left hers at home," and off she goes to track her down.

Not more than a nanosecond after she gets out of earshot, Larry turns back to look at me with that damn eyebrow shooting up in the stratosphere.

"Okay…now what?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me how that won't qualify as a date either," he wiseasses.

"Oh for the love of…"

"She moons at you the same way you used to over Lizzie, granted she punches you a lot…but you know…Miranda has a different way of showing affection. Maybe she thinks enough time has passed since you know…" he starts, and I immediately interrupt again.

"Since what?"

"Since Rome…since the world's most perfect kiss…described at least by the ladies who got to hear the story from Lizzie before she left. Miranda, Kate, and Veruca being among the few…and you can guess which one told me about it," he says taking another sip from his stupid Capri Sun.

"Gee let me guess. Why don't we ever talk about you and Veruca and the real soulmates of Hillridge?" another obvious attempt to change the subject.

"Nobody cares about happy couples that make sense. Your comical and sometimes awkward social retardation at ever finding love is better than anything on television…except Battlestar Galactica, of course," he explains coolly.

"Of course…but…if you find it so funny…why try helping me?" I ask putting a thoughtful finger to my chin.

"At the very least, I'm doing it for Miranda, who I think we both agree deserves to be happy," he answers.

"Miranda's not unhappy…"

"Fine…_completely_ happy…and it would be nice for you to be _completely_ happy as well instead of hiding behind a million extra-curricular groups so you can avoid ever having to date," he starts. "Because Grumpy Gordo?"

"Yeah…what about him?"

"Sucks ass, that's what," Tudge says…really loudly on the 'ass' part.

I'm silent.

Check Mated.

"Look man…you could try to describe to me what happened in Rome and afterwards when she ended up leaving for Hollywood anyway a million times…I know I wouldn't get it. But you have to live for the now, right? All of us can see it…that you and Miranda becoming an actual couple would violate some sort of code with Lizzie…"

"Yeah…" I say limply…but I can't continue…he's Dr. Phil-ing me into the ground.

"Even missing persons are declared dead after a long while has passed. And it's been how many months since you've even gotten a text message from Lizzie?"

December 27th.

She called me to complain about looking too thin in her last video…and that she was eating a fully loaded sub sandwich at the airport to 'take care of that'.

No…I haven't deleted the voice mail yet.

"Right…so I don't want to tell you how you should feel about Miranda…I mean you either like her like that or you don't…but the real point is…the Good Ship Lizzie McGuire left the port a long time ago. You need to stop waiting for it to come back," he says flatly…finishing up his stupid Capri Sun and crumpling up the pouch before tossing it in a nearby garbage can. "I gotta meet up with Veruca before Chem, you shouldn't wait up for Ethan or Kate…they're probably necking somewhere…"

"Hey Tudge," I say as he's leaving.

"Sup?" he turns around curious.

"You're right…about everything…and um…thanks" I manage to sputter.

His expression doesn't change at all at first…then he lets loose with a chuckle and shakes his head.

"I finally get you to say that and, of course, have no recording devices on. Lousy fate…"

"If Miranda's never gotten any proof of me admitting someone else is right, what hope do you possibly have?"

"Good point. Later Wing Commander," he salutes, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and jogs back toward the building.

"Yeah…see ya," I reply…noticing Miranda making her way back. She and Larry exchange waves as they cross paths.

"Where is he off to?" she asks, geometry book in hand.

"To do the same thing with Veruca, that Ethan and Kate clearly ditched joining us for lunch to do," I say watching Miranda throw her book back into her bag and start to fuss with her smooth, black hair.

I wonder what shampoo she uses.

It smells great.

"Ew. The thought of Larry getting his groove on…how are we the only single people in like the entire sophomore class?"

She's exaggerating obviously. But as I watch Larry and Veruca meet up on the second floor walkway, and smile like they haven't seen each other in a decade, and then kiss, I can only utter two words…

"Lousy fate…"

TBC


	4. The Chase

A/N: Disney owns the characters and the backdrop. Thanks for the reviews.

I'm thinking of this pretty lame movie as I'm running down the side of the field (or 'pitch' as some purists would call it). The movie is called 'The Faculty' and stars a pre-Lord of the Rings Elijah Wood as a noticeably short freshman trying to make it through an abnormal few days in high school in which an alien overlord is quickly taking over the minds and bodies of the faculty and students.

Despite having a number of fetching ladies and a good cast, the ending was retarded, at least according to my expert analysis.

Lizzie and Miranda's review?

'Josh Hartnett is so hot'.

Miranda would be especially into Josh Hartnett for the next few months. The mere mention of his name would cause her expression to soften, and do this weird thing where she bites her bottom lip. 'One of Miranda's most obvious signs that she is into a guy,' Lizzie would explain later. And I witnessed this a couple of times that proved her point with some non-Hartnett guys Miranda would be interested in.

Anyway, there is one line in the movie that Elijah Wood delivers to the football coach that is pure gold:

'I don't believe a person should run unless he's being chased'

Amen, brother. Running is for idiots. And today, I count myself as one of them.

The game is scoreless, and we're lucky to even have that. Ethan has had nine or ten saves, while we have only managed three actual shots on goal. As one of the wings, I have to take some of the blame for that.

I'm running hard to make up for that.

I'm also running because somebody from the other team is trying to stop me…and I can hear his footsteps behind me clearly even with my loud and ragged breathing.

But I can't stop…I need a few more yards before I can launch the ball towards the center of the field, because I can see freshman phenom Ben Balter has escaped his man as well, and now that we're not offside this is the best chance we have at a goal since the first half.

Making this a little more difficult is the sound of our home 'crowd' cheering and telling me to turn and break for the goal box. If I even tried that, the guy chasing me would catch up, and the chance would be gone. So I politely and silently wish that people that don't know any better would just shut the hell up.

I can hear Ben shout from the box "Center, Center!" and that's good enough for me. I stop for a half second, planting and pivoting with my right foot and kicking with my left.

My pass is less than Beckham-like. Way less.

I was trying to get enough on it so that it would elevate, and Ben would try to head it in. Half of the time I try this it works out.

This is the way the other half of the kicks work out. Where it sort of line drives making it too fast to and too poorly angled to head, yet off the ground so Ben can't simply kick it through.

I can see the momentary look of 'completely pissed' form on Ben's face before he straightens out and works with the crappy pass that gave him. He drops it off his chest and starts shuffling his feet, and the keeper from the other team suddenly looks panic stricken and actually charges Ben to close the space between them.

Ben Balter is a bit too smart for that. In fact, I think Ben was baiting him to charge by doing that little dance. The keeper lays out, and Ben makes my heart leap out as he side steps him and absolutely drills the ball into the net.

For a beautiful moment, everything seems to slow down as all I can hear is the whistle from the official. The whole scene looks like in slow motion as I see Ben running towards me with a huge open mouthed grin and arms wide open.

Before I can even react he's lifted me up off the ground, he's not much bigger than I am, but the sheer adrenaline is letting him hulk out. Others start to crowd around and I make the realization that we have scored.

Wow.

This is a great feeling…and I'm not even the one who scored.

As my hearing returns all I can hear is a garble of praise as Ben is peeled off of me and people start praising him as they should be. The Beasley twins from the junior class look like they want to throw Ben up on their shoulders until the coach finally shouts 'the game isn't over boys, get back over to our side of the field'.

My blood is just firing through my veins and I feel invincible. I could stay on this field for seven hours, running back and forth and occasionally having to actually do something. This is a high I've almost never experienced…and I could not explain why.

"Wake up champ, you still have a few minutes left!" I hear from a distinctly non-Coach Aro voice coming from the stands.

Miranda…of course.

My heart leaps again at making eye contact with her. Suddenly I'm strangely and intensely embarrassed. Despite being a good student and having great focus in class…I'm a bit of a daydreamer. And nobody, not even Lizzie, is better at catching me in a daze than Miranda.

But more importantly, did she see what I just did? Did she witness this great and strange moment in David Gordon history of small but significant athletic achievement?

The smile she gives me is one of pure pride.

Pride in me and what I just did.

I must say…this feels different…I could watch her watching me like this all day, every day.

I finally break eye contact and jog back over to our side. But I am trying to hold on to this feeling in my chest…under my skin…in my veins…

The temptation to look back over at Miranda is overwhelming, and I cave.

She's still smiling…and now she's sort of lightly biting at her bottom lip as she looks at me.

Oh.

Oh wow.

This sensation is strange…and yet very familiar…but either way is terrifying.

I feel a blush coming on…and realize we're staring at each other with a concentration that is bordering on awkward. I shake myself out of it and get back to my spot of the field where I need to stand ahead of the whistle for play to begin again.

The last few minutes of the game are a blur, I pass the ball off a couple of times and defend my little area of field, but my head is a million miles away and I'm sure anybody watching the game will pick up on that really quickly. The only time I managed to look like I was paying attention was in the locker room afterwards when Ethan asked if I was hitting the after party at the beach.

I absentmindedly say 'Sure', even though normally I wouldn't.

'I don't believe a person should run unless he's being chased'

The beach might be a good place to think.

Maybe figure out if I'm actually being chased.

And if so, whether I should run…

TBC


	5. Sands

A/N: Disney owns the characters. I own the context. Etc. etc. etc. Thanks for the reviews.

I never go to these things. It is usually just a BYOB party hosted by the soccer team, but normally dominated by juniors and seniors who have nothing to do with the team. The one time I went, Ethan and Kate were the only others I knew. I suppose you could count Parker, who I saw walking away from the bonfire out of site with some Junior. A few minutes later, Ethan and Kate got the same idea and dropped being polite with a "Hey Gordo, we're going over here…to be alone…probably for the rest of the night."

So in other words…I usually think this party is a big trip to the Sucktown Carnival…and mostly because the main attraction (beer…and more beer) is just okay to me and it's certainly no fun to ride on your own.

But here I am…trying hard to sit alone without looking like I need company. Trying really hard to not look anxious or angry, but totally failing. I'm working on beer number three, the first two I finished in record time.

And finally, my muscles start to feel warm, and relaxed.

There's no problem…really.

I just…

I just really don't want to go down this road again.

Not again.

Gordo and his best friend turning into Gordo and his girlfriend.

It'll just end badly.

Maybe it's me…maybe I'm just not meant to be with anybody…

"Damn dude, you'd hardly know we won with that look on your face," I hear a voice breaking me out of my pity party.

It's Ben, drinking from a diet coke can and looking like he's been spying on me for some time.

"Shouldn't you be drinking milk young man? Soda is bad for your bones," I say looking back out at the water and taking another swig of beer.

"You're right…I should get blitzed and join the Beasleys in that barfing contest on the pier. Freddie yakked so hard he claims his eyeballs almost popped from their sockets, while George is telling everyone he should get bonus points for getting some of his vomit on a piece of Styrofoam that was floating in the surf. He says he 'totally aimed for it'," Ben coolly explains. I just look at him and then pour the rest of my beer into the sand.

"Pretty smart for a freshman," I say, as I stand up and look for a responsible place to toss my container.

"Well my dad is a cop, and my mom won't hesitate to borrow his breathalyzer if she thinks I'm being naughty," he explains with a smile.

"Tough deal," I say…seeing a nearby garbage can and walking towards it.

"Meh, I've got other things I'd rather have...that's where you come in…" he says as he follows me and I give him the old suspicious eyebrow.

Great.

Sigh.

"Um…okay…sure," I answer…I sorta owe him for turning that pass into a game winning goal.

"There's this girl from my class…and I was hoping to go for a walk with her in private you know…but her friend is here…and I um…" he sure is taking his time getting to the point as I impatiently nod.

"Okay. Okay…I get it…our little Ben is all grown up and you need me to make small talk with her friend so you can divide and conquer your way to second base. Did I get that right?" I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Just second base?" he says with a tight smile.

"Kids these days…always wanting more," I say rolling my eyes.

He starts walking over to the 'volleyball game', which seems to be the only place being held onto by other non-drinking types at the party such as Ben. We approach two girls who have their backs to us as they watch the not-quite-competition. Not more than two seconds after Ben taps one of them on the shoulder do I get a good look at one of their profiles and my heart practically jumps into my throat.

Andie.

Crap.

"Hey Alyssa, Andie this is my teammate Da-," he starts only to have Andie cut him off.

"Gordo!?!?!" Andie screams and jumps onto me hugging me over the shoulders and wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Er…right…you two know each other. How…um…suddenly obvious…and weird," Ben stammers.

Tell me about, dude. Tell me about it.

I give Alyssa a limp wave and a 'hey' as Andie dismounts me. Alyssa is giving Andie a look of confusion until Andie still beaming at me says, "this is so weird…I was just telling Alyssa about the Bio exam and how you were tutoring me."

"That _is_ great," says Ben sounding just barely sarcastic to me, but not enough for them to pick up on it, "Hey Aly, why don't we go get some drinks?" he says leading her away from us.

Clearly there is a reason Ben plays offense, and why he is so good at it.

I look over at Andie who is watching them leave, and before I can say something either stupid or awkward or both she sighs and says, "Finally, all she has been talking about is hooking up with _the_ Ben Balter. You don't know how many bikinis she made me watch her change into just for that to happen," she explains pointing at them walking further into the darkness.

"Andie," I start, placing a hand on her shoulder, "if you need a substitute for watching your friends change into bikinis, I am ALWAYS here for you…a phone call away."

"Smart, cute, and a comedian. How are you single?" she asks as I work really hard to keep my eyes off of her zip down hoodie, the zipper closed just above what I assume is a bikini top.

The two and a half beers are killing my focus.

"I talk in my sleep…loudly…"

"No wonder Lizzie left for Hollywood…" she blurts out…almost instantly.

The sound of her name brings my focus back, the wrong kind of focus.

I wince the minute she says it, and she immediately knows the topic of Lizzie was unexpected…and a bit unwelcome.

"Gordo…I'm sorry…that was a joke. I didn't mean to say…"

"No…no it's fine. I…uh…I just…"

She's looking for forgiveness.

"Don't apologize. You just reminded me that she and I haven't spoken to her in a while and um…I dunno…I guess I feel like…"

"She's forgotten you?" Andie asks…in a cautious way.

"Maybe…or she doesn't need me…us…Miranda and me that is…as much anymore…or at all," I stammer as the pain of admitting that out loud for the first time ever starts to gnaw at me. "But look, I'm not going to play the wounded guy here, she had to go, I told her to go otherwise she's regret it for the rest of her life."

"So she wanted to stay? I always heard she only came back home just long enough to do some laundry and pack up her room," she says with a look of shock.

I pause again.

I'm not really sure I want to get into this. Especially with Andie.

She looks away towards the surf. "Look I get it, it's personal, and you don't have to get into it".

"No…but I would like to get into it…"

She turns to me as I continue to look out at the waves.

"Walk with me?" I ask. She nods and leads the way down the shore line.

TBC


End file.
